


Horses not Zebras

by rabidchild67



Series: Cursed [3]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-06
Updated: 2012-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1300579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick thinks he’s been cursed – again! Man, it’s tough being a Grimm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Horses not Zebras

Nick woke with a start. He found himself seated at his Aunt Marie’s desk in the trailer, sprawled forward, face lying on an open manuscript (GAH – was it sticking to his face?). He sat up abruptly and immediately regretted it. His head was pounding – strike that, it was _throbbing_ – and he felt a strange sense of unreality as he moved. A glance out the window told him it was now night – he’d lost time.

“Crap, not again,” he moaned. He glanced down at his watch and found he couldn’t focus on it properly to see what time it was. Now he wished he’d allowed Monroe to bring that antique cuckoo clock over for him. And the water clock. And the old French mantel clock. Monroe had a lot of clocks.

All he knew was that he had to get out of there. He pushed the chair back and stood, turned to go, and a sudden feeling of vertigo overwhelmed him and he fell to the floor. “Ow,” he muttered, and pushed himself over so he was laying on his back, and that sense of unreality assailed him again. His vision was strangely affected – there was a bright nimbus around everything in the trailer – and there was a strange prickling to his skin, which felt too tight for his body, like it had shrunk. 

He’d felt something similar before – he had, hadn’t he? – and the idea of what might be happening to him terrified him. His mind reeled – where had he been that day? Had he accepted any drinks or food from anyone?

He fumbled for his mobile in his pocket, squinted at the display as he tried to make a call. A cold sweat was breaking out all over his skin, and he began to shiver. “Come on, come on,” he begged, and finally found Monroe’s number on the recently called list.

“Yello,” Monroe said, all chipper.

“Monroe?” Nick swallowed – his voice sounded so far away in his ears. _No, no, no._

“Buddy? What’s wrong?”

Nick almost fainted with relief; Monroe could always intuit when something was wrong with him – all too often an occurrence – and he loved him the more for it. 

“Can you come? I think I’ve been cursed again. I don’t feel right. Please, can you come before…before…” he found he couldn’t finish the thought: before he sprouted wings or tentacles, or turned into some slimy, crawling creature.

“Where are you?”

“Marie’s trailer.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“OK,” Nick replied, his voice so small to him, so strange. Scared.

“Babe?” 

“Yeah?”

“It’s gonna be OK.”

Nick hung up and lay with the phone cradled against his chest, willing Monroe to hurry.

\----

“Wow. Wow,” Monroe said upon arriving and finding him in the exact spot.

Nick startled again – he had lost more time! “Monroe,” he said miserably. “Help me.”

Monroe knelt next to him, and helped him into a seated position, letting him lean against him. Nick’s head lolled against Monroe’s chest. “What happened?”

“I don’t, I don’t know! I just kind of lost time, I think.”

“In what way?”

“I was doing some research, and the next thing I knew, it was hours later and I don’t remember what happened in between.”

“Uh-huh. What else?”

“I feel so strange. My skin, it tingles and twitches.” He held out his hands as if to illustrate. “And I can’t stand, I can’t see right!” He could feel himself panicking, and he couldn’t stop it.

“Shh, shh,” Monroe said soothingly, rubbing circles on his back. “What do you mean you can’t see?”

“Everything goes white and blurry – like looking up through the water? God, Monroe, what’s happening to me?” Nick had begun to shiver again.

“Sounds like the flu.”

“What? No, it’s got to be a curse. I lost time!”

“You passed out.”

“What about my vision?”

“You’re dizzy, lightheaded. I’ll bet you’ve got a headache too.”

“Yeah.”

“Muscles achy, cold sweats, shivering?”

Nick nodded miserably.

“It’s the flu, genius. Here, let me help you.” Monroe pulled him to his feet effortlessly, hauled his arm over his shoulders and helped him to the large bed at the center of the trailer. “And it’s no wonder – it’s freaking freezing in here. You should do all of this research at home, like I told you.”

“Got to keep it safe.”

“Oh yeah, because the door on this thing is so impervious. A good, swift kick’s all it needs. But that’s neither here nor there. Right now, we need to get you home and into a warm bed.” 

Monroe found Nick’s coat and it held it out for him. Nick stared up at him, slack jawed and without the energy to move. Rolling his eyes, Monroe sat beside him and fed his arms into the sleeves. 

“You sure this isn’t a curse? Feels like that time with the truth potion.”

Monroe took Nick’s chin in his hand and angled his face up to him, peering at him closely. “Nah, I’d smell it on you. Trust me.”

“Feels worse than being turned into a cat.”

“I don’t doubt it. Here, hang on a sec,” Monroe said, licking the pad of his thumb and rubbing at something on the side of Nick’s mouth.

“What?” Nick said, recoiling.

“You’ve got one of those creepy drawings of a _Schakalen_ on your face,” he said, rubbing harder to get the stubborn ink off. “Probably drooled all over that book - you look like human Silly Putty.”

“I almost wish this was a curse, I feel like hell.”

“Trust me, you don’t,” Monroe leaned over him and helped him to the door. “And neither do my drapes,” he said, hitting the lights and locking up.

\----

Thank you for your time.


End file.
